Agent 38: In The Making

Chapter 39: Final Battle

Three's words sunk in slowly. "You, The Octoling who dared defy me. I challenge you."
     The thumping footsteps outside echoed loudly in the Bluefin Depot (I haven't played Splatoon 2 in a while so someone please correct me if Bluefin Depot is incorrect). Marie and Callie had created a fake replica of the Cuttlefish Cabin to fool people that had to be taken as prisoners, since the original Cuttlefish Cabin was at the Tentakeel Outpost. This trick seemed to be working well.
     Eight turned to the group. "The army is outside. Go." She swiveled her head to glare at Three. "This is my fight."
     He suddenly lunged at her, and they burst through the door and out onto the ground. She held his hands off her shoulders as Three's teal green eyes quickly assessed the scene. Realization spilled out onto his face as Tartar realized it'd been tricked.
     Eight struck him once, twice, three times in the face, and jabbed her knee upward to kick his stomach. Three grunted and rolled off of her, and she leapt on top of him.
     Aaron, Callie and Marie were watching the fight with frightened eyes. "Go! I'll distract him, you guys need to get rid of this army!" Eight yelled. They all nodded with determination, grabbed their weapons, and charged into the middle of battle with ear-splitting shrieks of rage.
     I hope they win, Eight prayed silently.
     Three's hands went up around her hips and he hurled her off of him. Eight slammed into a massive cargo box that lay half open, hitting her head on the metal. Three came storming towards her, looking absolutely insane as emerald-colored chaos erupted behind him. She turned and sprinted away, trying to find cover. Eight spotted an enormous warehouse far to her left, and veered from her course as Three's footsteps echoed violently behind her.
     She spotted a small dagger on the floor, perhaps from a training session, and cartwheeled to pick it up, still keeping her momentum. Eight stopped in front of the warehouse doors, holding the dagger firmly in hand.
     Three slowed his pace and walked towards her, a sad smile creasing his face. He stopped a few feet away from her, meeting her eyes.
     "Eight, my darling," He said. Eight could tell Tartar was using Three's voice and putting in his own words, which simply fueled her with more rage. "Things do not have to be this way." Three waved his hands around at the battle erupting behind them. "You can join me, stop this chaos, and aid me in building my Empire. We can rule the world, you and I, side by side." His face suddenly turned wistful as he gazed into the sky, as if wondering if he could control that as well. "And you can be with the one thing you love most."
     Three stepped closer, closer, so much so that she could feel his breath on her neck.
     "Me."
     HOW DARE TARTAR. How DARE it use her boyfriend to try and get her on its side.
     Eight masked the outrage that was trying to spill onto her face and put her hands on his chest. "Your forgetting one thing, Tartar." She said in her most soothing tone.
     "And what's that...?" Said Tartar's voice, leaning in closer to her lips.
     Eight hardened her face and glared hard at him. "I love Alexander Liam Squidlink."
     "Not you."
     Eight wrapped her fists around the collar of his shirt, sent all her power into her arms, and hurled him through the warehouse's open doors. She gripped the dagger and sprinted in after him and felt a hand grip her sleeve.
     "Wait!" Aaron cried. "We have to help. We've held off the army, but Three is stronger than you!"
     Eight yanked him off and slammed the doors shut once inside the warehouse.
     "I'm sorry," She called through the glass windows near the top of the door. "But this is my fight."
     "NO!" Aaron shrieked. "EIGHT, YOU'LL DIE!"
     Eight turned back to the inside of the warehouse, which had an odd structure. Several raised platforms pierced out of the ground, reminding her of the elevator on which she fought Three on. Things that looked like dusty, old, raggedy curtains hung down from the cieling far overhead, and in each corner of the warehouse was a pillar that almost touched the ceiling, that was almost shrouded out of sight because of the curtains.
     With a shiver, she realized she couldn't see Three.
     "TARTAR!!!" Eight screamed, letting her outrage and sadness fuel her vocal chords. "Come out and face me! This is our fight; leave Three out of it!"
     She strained her ears as her voice echoed and bounced off the ridged metal walls of the warehouse.
     Tap. Tap. Tap.
     Eight instinctively spun towards the noise. A small, insignificant rock lay quietly on the floor.
     Whoosh.
     It could have been a curtain getting caught on another. It could have been a stray breeze from one of the cracked windows near the ceiling.
     Or... it could have been her partner, stalking closer and closer to his prey.
     Another slight whoosh rung in her ears, and she heard Agent 3 before she saw him. She more than felt his hand reaching for her shoulder as he dove towards her from one of the high pillars. Eight didn't even look his way. She flung her hands above and behind her head, caught his forearm, and slammed him into the ground like a hammer.
     Eight flipped the dagger through her fingers like a toy. "Is this what you wanted, Tartar!? You and I, sparring each other like cat and mouse? Well, I'm here now, so COME AND GET SOME!"
     Three scrambled back to his feet and lunged for her. She slid to the side and shoved his back, and he fell back down to the floor. Eight jumped up, brandished her elbow, and smashed it down into his chest. Or, she would've, but he rolled out of the way at the last second. Eight felt him grab a tentacle at the back of her head and he smacked her face down into the ground, once, twice, three, four times.
     Eight lay limp on the floor, stunned and dazed. The dagger had flown out of her hands, and now she reached for it across the floor, groaning in pain. Agent 3 stepped past her, making an annoying "tsk, tsk, tsk," sound, and picked up the dagger. She rolled to her back and stood up, swaying slightly on her feet. Eight realized her nose was bleeding, she had a few scrapes on her left cheek, and she might've chipped a tooth.
     "Oh, 10,008." Three said conversationally. "My sincerest apologies that it had to end this way, but really, I don't feel an ounce of resentment. However, your little partner inside does. He's scrambling around inside, screaming at me, trying to get free. Little does he know his body is nothing but my vessel, and he is nothing but a pawn in my game. A minor note in my song."
     Tears flooded Eight's eyes. She was torn between utter, pure outrage and sadness.
     "You... you monster!" Eight screamed. "Would your professor have wanted this? Murdering the world for power? Destroying the life he wanted so badly? Does the memory of being important once upon a time haunt you?" She stepped towards him, grabbed his jaw in a death grip, and whispered, "Because let me tell you, when I'm through with you, you'll be nothing but an awful memory, nothing but a bad dream."
     Three banged his chin against her forehead and she staggered back, stars spinning around her head. Eight regained her composure and charged at him, jabbing her shoulder into his stomach but never losing her momentum. She kept sprinting with his body half over her shoulder and rammed them both straight into a wall.
     Three made an odd choking noise, as though he was being strangled. A moment later, he crumpled forward and she saw his stomach heave in. With a retching noise, he vomited out a small, jiggly object that kept its shape. It was a sort of teal green, a shade away from the exact color Three's eyes currently were, and looked as though it had been marbled. Eight leaned in to take a closer look and gasped.
     It was the goo that had been on Three's face when they fought in the Metro.
     He was hunched over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
     Eight slid on her knees towards him, hope suddenly chasing away her outrage. She gently cupped his face. "Are you ok?" She whispered softly. Three's eyes flickered normal and teal over and over like they had in the Cabin, but this time at a slower pace.
     He looked at her with unfocused eyes before collapsing backward into an awkward sitting position, leaning against one of the raised platforms. After a long, weary moment, suddenly he jerked up.
     "Get away from me," Three breathed, glancing up at her with nothing but pure terror written on his face. His voice also did the same odd flickering thing, one moment it was doubled and the next it was normal. "Get away from me, please!"
     Eight scrambled to her feet and stumbled away obediently, waiting for the moment where his eyes would go teal again. And, as suspected, they did.
     In a flash, the dagger was in Three's hand, and he was charging toward her. Her first instinct was to dodge, but then she realized something.
     If I let Tartar stab me... Three will break through the control. If I let Tartar hurt the one things Three loves most, he'll come back to me.
     Eight spread her arms out wide, closed her eyes, and shrieked a long, ink-curdling shriek of pure, untouched suffering as Three thrust the dagger straight into her thigh.
     "NO!" Three roared, his voice normal once again. Through the haze of pain she saw him clutching his head and staggering around, his quiet mutters of rage turning into screams halfway through the sentence.
     Eight winced as she set weight on the leg with the dagger, and tried to run to him, limping so much she nearly fell over. Tears of agony flooded her eyes and dripped down her cheeks, and she let them. As Three turned around, his hands still on his head, Eight gathered the last bit of strength she had left and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach.
     Eight collapsed on the floor, ink gushing out of her injured leg. She pressed her hands around the dagger and crawled towards the door.
     "Aaron," She called, or tried to. "Aaron! Marie! Callie! Gabriel, please, anyone!"
     Now that she listened, she noticed the banging on the door that she hadn't heard during the fight. A moment later, there was a loud smash, as though a lock had been broken, and one of the warehouse doors swung open. The Agents ran inside, now including Gabriel, and saw Eight's ink all over the floor, along with her.
     Eight glanced back in Three's direction. He was crouched on his hands and knees, with another glob of teal green goo a foot away from him, and a small puddle of tears beneath his face. She waved Gabriel off when he tried to help her as she scooted towards Three. She slid underneath his face and angled herself so she could rest her head in his lap, and gazed up into his finally normal eyes.
     "Hey, I'm not dead yet," Eight said, her words coming out in short gasps of pain. "I'm ok. I'm gonna survive this."
     "I'm sorry," Three whispered. "I'm so, so sorry for what I've done."
     "Get away from her!" Gabriel cried, running towards them. He brandished his Brella at Three and he stumbled away, his face nothing but sorrow and guilt.
     "Gabriel, i-it's ok," Eight gasped. "H-he didn't do anything w-wrong, it wasn't h-his fault."
     "No, no, he's right," Three said quietly. "I'll go." He glanced at her apologetically, then turned and fled out the door.
     Gabriel got behind her to support her head and Aaron near her wound to examine it. She winced as he touched the hilt of the dagger, moving it only slightly.
     "Callie, Marie," Aaron called, his eyes still on the dagger and the ink stained on its blade. "Get me some medical cloth tape and a stretcher if we have one."
     They both nodded and turned, quickly obeying his order.
     Without a word, Eight reached down, gripped the hilt of the dagger, and yanked it out of her leg.

So yeah. That happened.
Word count: 2114